


Blindfold

by Polyoxyethylene



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Kisses and blindfolds, Marichat Oneshot, Short, Sweet, chat noir is adorkable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 17:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6763840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyoxyethylene/pseuds/Polyoxyethylene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliminate the threat, then they could reveal their weaknesses.</p>
<p>But now there was this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blindfold

“Princess.”

Marinette looked at him, the silly black tom cat perched over her knees, pleading with her with his eyes. She groaned. “It's supposed to be puppies that do sad eyes,” she told him, trying desperately to cling to her resolution not to let Chat Noir blindfold her.

He'd asked, and she'd folded her arms, and narrowed her eyes, and told him it was just a little bit early in their relationship, didn't he think, for _that_? Then he'd said it, and she'd felt her resolve waver.

_I want to touch you_.

He'd looked at his hands, then, skin covered by the suit, and fingers tipped with claws, and she'd understood, suddenly, what he meant. She'd squirmed, her cheeks colouring. You could feel things through the suit, but it wasn't the same. It felt nothing like touching things with bare fingers.

The times he'd run his hands up her arms as he kissed her, or curled his arms around her back, she realised, he'd felt like his suit was in the way. It brought that colour back to her cheeks, and she made herself look away from him. He was still giving her the sad kitty eyes, too.

“Please?” He asked, so quietly, and so earnestly.

“If it slips,” she started, before her voice failed her. The subject of his identity had come up. He'd shown up on her balcony one night, forlorn after a night's patrol without Ladybug around, because unbeknownst to him Ladybug had an awful lot of homework she was way behind with, and it sounded like he'd had a bad day even outside of the suit. She'd taken him in, shared a slice of cake with him, and then regretted her decision the following week when it turned out you really shouldn't feed stray cats that came to your balcony.

His weekly visits had become twice weekly, and it was nice, in a way, to spend time with Chat when she wasn't in her own suit. He flirted, and postured of course, because he was still Chat Noir, but she also saw the more vulnerable side to him. He was lonely, beneath the bravado, with absentee parents and an isolated life that he described as a gilded cage, and maybe four people he knew well enough to call them friends, if you included Ladybug and Marinette.

Marinette had bitten back that he only really had three friends then, because two of them were the same person, and somehow that was just infinitely sadder.

The first time he'd kissed her had been out on her balcony, when they were saying goodbye for the night. It had been intended as a peck on the cheek, nothing more, but she'd turned her head at the wrong time, and he'd gone in and landed with his lips against hers. They'd stayed that way for a second, and then they'd jumped away from each other, her face burning, and his eyes wide, reddened cheeks showing at the edges of his mask.

She'd spent that night tossing and turning in bed, unable to work out what was going on in her own heart, and why could she still feel his lips against hers? She loved Adrien, so why was her head being turned by Chat?

He'd come back the next week, and that kiss had been deliberate, and she'd blushed from head to foot.

Did she want to know who she was kissing, he'd asked. Of course she did, she wanted to know who she was inviting into her room, who she was waiting up for at night, who she'd been pinned against her balcony railing by and kissed with such ferocity it made her breathless. Of course she wanted to know, but at the same time...

Yes, she'd said, but, she'd said, and then when the name 'Hawk Moth' came from his lips _and_ hers she knew he understood.

They'd deal with Hawk Moth, and then he could tell her who he was. Then she could tell him who _she_ was. It would be safer, then. He wouldn't look at Ladybug and see Marinette, the girl who trips over her own feet and blushes down to her tip toes when he kisses her just so, and she wouldn't see who he really was. She wouldn't be forced to see him as a vulnerable boy when she needed to be able to see him as a nigh invulnerable superhero.

Eliminate the threat. Then they could reveal their weaknesses.

But now there was this.

“Then I'll have to trust you to keep your eyes closed,” he said, holding the blindfold.

Marinette bit her lip, and nodded. “All right,” she said, after a moment's hesitation. He leaned forward, placing the cloth gently over her eyes and securing it at the back of her head.

After a moment, and the sensation of him sitting back again, he asked, “What am I doing?”

Marinette considered the options. “Grinning like an idiot because you have your girlfriend blindfolded on her bed?”

“I knew it,” he said, “it mustn't be on properly.”

Marinette reached out one hand to give him a light smack, a grin breaking on her face. She hit empty air, and she felt Chat laugh before she heard it. “Dumb cat,” she grouched.

She felt it then, a sensation like something shifted, even though Chat hadn't moved an inch. She fell quiet, holding her breath. She was as nervous as he must be, she realised.

Fingertips, warm, real fingertips, with close cropped nails ghosted over the back of her hand, and she inhaled, sharply. The fingers took hers, and she could feel calluses on his palm, probably from wielding his baton, she thought. His fingers were long, and delicate, piano player's fingers, she remembered, that was what they called them, and his hand was so warm as it slid under hers.

Another hand touched her face, and she turned her cheek into it. It did feel different, she realised. It felt almost painfully intimate. She sighed, letting him run his hand slowly up her bare arm as he leaned in and took a kiss from her.

Curiously, tentatively, she raised her hands to him. She could feel a light jacket, made of cotton, perhaps, hanging open, and underneath that a shirt, pull-over, no fastenings, a t-shirt she realised. His whole body was warm as she wrapped her arms around him, sighing into his mouth as his tongue pressed against hers in delicate touches and strokes.

In a moment of mischief, she found the hem of his t-shirt and slipped her hand under it, brushing her own fingertips against the bare skin of his back. He started, pulling back, and then laughed, softly.

“Is this better?” She asked him, her voice hushed.

“Much,” he replied, leaning in to kiss her again, settling the weight of his body over hers until she could wrap both of her arms around him and run her fingers into his hair.


End file.
